


The Fall of Saint Citrina

by RoseThorn14



Category: A Crown of Candy - Fandom, Dimension 20 (Web Series), Dimension 20: A Crown of Candy
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Deathfic, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, The Rocks Family - Freeform, fuck the Bulb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:15:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24751462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseThorn14/pseuds/RoseThorn14
Summary: Saint Citrina knew that she was most likely going to die as she ran through the streets of Comida.Here is her final hour: betrayed, alone, and scared.How a Saint regretted everything.
Relationships: Amethar Rocks & Citrina Rocks & Lazuli Rocks & Rococoa Rocks & Sapphria Rocks
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	The Fall of Saint Citrina

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I wanted to give myself more pain.

The church had betrayed her.

And she had discovered it too late.

The air in her chest burned as she heaved her breaths in and out, running down the streets faster than she ever had before.

Belizabeth was going to kill her.

She almost couldn't believe it, the depth of the corruption she had uncovered, the kind of fanaticism that was woven into the church's very core.

Tears pricked the back of her eyes but she held them back. She had practice. Her entire life had been devoted to the mastery of her emotions so that she could always make her decisions with consideration for the Bulb rather than for her own emotions.

But the Bulb didn't care.

She had to tell someone. Anyone.

But who would believe her? Who could do something about it? Who wasn't on their side?

She ducked into a shadowy alley to avoid the knights that were streaming quietly through the streets.

She knew better than to try and find help from the citizens. She couldn't count on them to not immediately turn her in, and she wouldn't consign them to the same death she was being threatened with if they helped her. She refused to.

Citrina took the small moment of reprieve to catch her breath as she huddled in the darkness.

She was injured and afraid and so terribly alone.

She was so far away from any of her people.

All her family was on the front lines, fighting, but she had foolishly thought that she would be of more use in the capital, helping the citizens affected by the strain the war was putting on the Empire. It was what the Bulb had wanted, she'd thought.

What a load of bullshit.

She had never approved of the Belizabeth Brassica. She had suspected that the woman's rapid rise through the ranks had been more due to sacrilegious lust for power rather than her unparalleled devotion like most of the Church believed. Or pretended to believe.

She had found proof of her suspicions too late.

The worst part was that she had proven her sister right.

She couldn't count the number of arguments that her and Lazuli had gotten into.

She knew that her sister's actions went directly against the Church's law, and her sister had always been quick to accuse the church of being empty of anything really worth worshipping.

Citrina had dismissed Lazuli's statements as the blasphemy of a heretic. She had thought that her sister's magic was disgusting and unholy and would consign her to eternal damnation.

Their last parting had been full of bitter words and vicious insults.

Citrina had found out just where Lazuli's precious order was drawing their power from.

She had claimed that she would report her for her crimes and Lazuli had dared her to, unconcerned with the consequences.

And then Citrina hadn't said anything. Had made herself just as much of a heretic as her sister.

Citrina wondered if Lazuli had seen that she wouldn't rat her out. Had seen her death.

However she dismissed the accusatory thought. Lazuli had seen all their deaths a hundred times over.

She knew that Lazuli saw many possible futures and that, most of the time, her visions were too numerous and confusing for her to truly act on them in time to stop anything.

Her beloved sister had drifted away from all of them even more after the war had started. She'd lost herself to the visions, desperately trying to find the best outcome for all of them and, now, she could barely tell if she was in the present anymore.

The only time she really acted like her old self was around Caramalinda. 

The thought pulled a few, lemony tears down from her eyes.

Citrina had been wrong before.

The worst part of this whole situation was that she would never get to apologise to Lazuli.

Maybe this was a punishment for her crimes against the Bulb and her family. She'd betrayed them both in the end, hadn't she?

She stamped that thought out.

The Bulb didn't care what she did. She'd come to that revelation earlier that evening when she had lain her hand across her book and attempted to connect with it, the higher power she had devoted her life to. The thing she had sacrificed her closest relationships for.

She had allowed the energy to flow through her, delving deeper into it than she ever had before, searching for answers.

She had found none.

Only mindless power.

Just like Lazuli had said she would.

She automatically started moving again as she heard footsteps coming up the streets she had ducked out of.

The alleyway she was in opened out into one of the richer parts of the city and Citrina blinked, disorientated. In her panic to escape, she hadn't bothered to think about where she was going.

She cursed herself silently but vehemently, using words that she'd learnt from Rococoa and Sapphria, who had both learnt them from the soldiers that they now fought beside.

Before she could decide where to go next, she heard clinking of armour again.

It took her precious seconds to figure out which direction they were coming from and her heart leapt into her throat when she realised that the answer more than one.

She bolted down the street and away from the knights that were creeping up the alley behind her and the ones marching towards her from her right.

She ran blindly, her stomach twisting as she began to recognise the street for what it was.

Citrina had gotten further than she'd thought. She was now in the lanes outside the castle reserved for lower nobility visiting the capital.

Dread sent icy streams down her back.

There was only one way this would end.

Inevitably, she was met with the ambush that she knew had been fast approaching, going to turn down the street that her path had split into only to find knights approaching on either side. She was cornered on all sides, a wall of houses at her front, and enemies clogging her only three escape routes.

She was trapped. These houses were empty, since everyone was off at war and the non-fighting spouses and children having been welcomed into the castle for a late night vigil for the brave soldiers on the battlefield.

Citrina should have been standing with them praying for her sisters.

Praying to a useless god that wouldn't have done anything and cared for nothing.

A thrill of hope went through her as she remembered just who's quarters she was cornered against. It was a thin chance that the good friend who had escorted her to the capital wouldn't have left yet. They had agreed to meet at the castle after all.

Nevertheless, a desperate scream escaped her throat as she called out to her last possible chance of survival, all righteous thoughts of sparing other gone in the face of her choking fear.

If he couldn't save her, maybe her cry warn him in time for him to flee, for if he was close enough to hear, they would surely eliminate him too. The church wanted to destroy all of Candia after all.

"Calroy!"

Her voice was more desperate than she had ever been before, and she almost cried with a mix of fear and joy as the door to the balcony slowly opened and her dear friend emerged, wine glass in hand.

He wouldn't be able to do anything in time, but she was grateful for his presence in her final moments.

Nevertheless, this half a second of comfort would have to do. It was more important that he escaped to inform Candia of what was to come.

"Run!" she screamed. "Get a message to Candia."

The knights had stopped moving now. They had surrounded her on all sides.

Yet Calroy didn't move.

Instead, he inclined his head at someone behind her, offering his glass up in a silent salute as a small smile spread across his face.

Citrina spun around to face her murderers, registering Belizabeth Brassica standing behind the wall of knights even as what had happened had clicked into place within her mind.

Calroy had betrayed her. Betrayed all of Candia.

And she was going to die alone.

She would never see her sisters again. She would never see Amethar again.

Never walk the halls of Castle Candy. Never smell the sweet sugary air. Never know the true magic of Candia that Lazuli had always talked about.

As Belizabeth smirked at her, Citrina drew herself up to her full height, schooling her features.

She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her tears, nor the honour of her fear.

"Do your worst, you Broccoli Bitch," she spat, looking down her nose at the knights around her.

Belizabeth snarled swinging her arm forward.

"Kill her!"

Inside, Citrina _mourned_ for all that she had lost, and that Candia would lose in the future. She _worried_ for what would happen to her family and to her kingdom. She _regretted_ devoting her life to a hollow church instead of studying the magic of her roots.

She _wanted_ to give her family one last hug.

But outwardly, she held her head high, even as an orange-skinned knight darted towards her.

And so, Saint Citrina, one of the few truly holy followers of the Bulb, was cut down in the streets of Comida, far away from her home, murdered by the cause she had dedicated her life to.

She died alone and afraid, her only comfort a traitor that stood above her, smiling as her body crumpled to the ground.

Her family would not discover the truth of her death for two decades. She would be remembered as one of the kindest, sweetest, holiest members of the Church, inadvertently adding to its strength even as it betrayed her.

But even in death she stood strong.

And, in her final moments, she felt a different kind of magic flood her veins. She did not break eye contact with the future pontifex even as the sword cut through her chest.

As she fell, her eyes sparked purple and light of the same sugary colour surrounded her, even as her yellow blood stained the stones beneath her, sending a citrusy sweet smell into the air.

For in sweetness there is strength.

**Author's Note:**

> How did you like it? 
> 
> I might do more deathfics for the other sisters if you want it. 
> 
> This fic made me look up the spelling of the word 'broccoli'.
> 
> Here is my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/bogariel-frogariel
> 
> Because I think that it is eating my posts. I can’t find them when I look them up.


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